Kutner Trek: Voyeur
by hwshipper
Summary: Kutner stared at the closed-off office and wondered what was going on the other side of the blinds. What would they want privacy for?... Kutner is pulled into the House-Wilson whirlpool of crazy, and finds out he likes to watch.


**Title**: Kutner Trek: Voyeur  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Pairing**: House/Wilson established  
**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**Beta**: enormous thanks to daisylily

**A/N**: Written for the Kutner Fest at kutner_love. Prompt 52. Kutner/House/Wilson: Kutner ends up being pulled into the House/Wilson whirlpool of crazy, though he swears he doesn't know how; but, hey, at least it's fun.  
**Summary**: Kutner discovers that he likes to watch.

**Kutner Trek: Voyeur**

"Aren't you curious about them at all?" Kutner asked.

"No," said Foreman.

"No," said Thirteen.

"Absolutely not," Taub said.

"It's not like we didn't know before," Thirteen pointed out.

"It was pretty obvious," Foreman said, just a touch patronizingly.

"We _guessed_ before. We didn't _know_," Kutner objected. "Now suddenly it's out, it's official, House and Wilson are a couple! Don't you wonder about it at all?"

"The less we know about House's personal life, the better," Taub opined, grimacing. "Now, can we get back to the patient? Did we rule out lupus yet?"

* * *

Later that day, Kutner was in the conference room when Wilson came walking into House's office. The door between the office and the conference room was shut, and Kutner couldn't hear anything. But he saw House gesture towards the dividing glass wall, and then Wilson stepped across to tweak the blinds shut.

Kutner stared at the closed-off office and wondered what was going on the other side of the blinds. What would they want privacy for?... Maybe they were having sex in the office! But surely not in the middle of the working day? Dr. Wilson, at least, was too sensible to allow such a thing. Maybe they were kissing, cuddling, something like that. House had a badass reputation to uphold, after all. He couldn't be seen to be affectionate in public with his boyfriend. _Boyfriend_, wow, what a strange word to use about House and Wilson! Kutner thought it was really cool.

Foreman came in the room with a file. "Test results are back. It's not lupus. Back to square one." Foreman jerked his head towards the door. "He in there?"

"Yeah, but Wilson's there too," Kutner warned.

Foreman ignored this and rapped on the door.

"Go away!" House shouted, and Foreman opened the door and went in. Kutner was right behind, eager to see what was going on. He was a trifle disappointed to find House at his desk and Wilson several feet away, ensconced comfortably in the yellow corner chair.

"It's not lupus," Foreman said to House, and House rolled his eyes.

A conversation ensued which ended with Foreman dispatched to run another test, and as Foreman left House said to Kutner in an acid tone, "And what are you doing here? Your test finished too?"

"Uh no, not yet," Kutner mumbled, and left hastily.

* * *

The patient was cured the next day, and in the lull before the next case came along Kutner lingered around House's office and Wilson's office, and dawdled in the cafeteria when they were there; hoping to see them together, curious to see some tangible sign of their couple-ness.

But House and Wilson seemed set on being no more demonstrative in public than they had ever been. They spent a lot of time together, but they always had done. They ate lunch, and House stole Wilson's food, so nothing new there. They walked in unison down corridors, almost touching but not quite, with the familiarity of years of practice.

It started to become a real issue with Kutner. He found himself watching House and Wilson as they talked, walked, ate, played foosball. He started turning up in places where he thought they might be, slightly early or slightly late, as if he might catch them in the act of doing… something.

* * *

House was vaguely aware that Kutner seemed unduly fascinated by watching him and Wilson together, but didn't think anything of it at first.

Then one night he and Wilson were sitting in a bar, in a window booth which faced the parking lot. Wilson had gone to get drinks, and House stared out of the window absent-mindedly. Suddenly he saw a vehicle very like Kutner's car in the lot. It was dark, and he could barely make out the figure in the driver's seat, but it did look like Kutner.

House wasn't certain, but he thought he had an audience. And House was always one to play to the gallery.

Wilson returned and put two bottles of beer on the table. House turned, grabbed the bottle nearer to Wilson, and took a swig. "You know what I was editing on Wikipedia today?"

"Surprise me," Wilson said easily.

"Chiromancy. Palm reading." House reached out and grasped Wilson's left hand. "Now let's see... Short heart line, that explains a lot…"

"House, don't be an ass."

House traced an outline on Wilson's palm. "Nice long life line..."

Wilson sighed, reached out with his right hand and flipped House's own hand over. "Your life line, on the other hand--" a quirk of the eyebrow indicated a deliberate pun-- "looks a bit short, I have to say."

Out in the car, Kutner caught his breath as he saw House look straight at him. He told himself that there was no way House could make anything out at that distance, through the glass.

He then watched them touch each others' hands, and was spellbound. It was as if House was putting on a theater performance just for him. Kutner didn't know what they were saying to each other, and rationally he knew it would be trivial; but it looked for all the world like they were caressing each other's hands. House, tracing a delicate fingertip across Wilson's wrist; Wilson, pulling House's arm close, stroking a line across House's palm.

The hand touching stopped after a few minutes. Kutner watched for a few more, seeing House gobble peanuts and get through most of Wilson's beer as well as his own. Then he took a deep breath, left the car and went into the bar. He avoided House and Wilson's table and went across to get a drink.

He was mid-beer five minutes later when suddenly a voice said in his ear, "Enjoy the show?"

It was House, leaning on his cane, regarding him with an amused but disturbed expression. Kutner considered various responses including surprise, ignorance and denial, but eventually said, "Yeah, any chance of an encore?"

House snorted, and said over his shoulder as he walked away, "You've got a problem, you know that?"

* * *

For Kutner, the fact that House knew what he was doing only added to the situation. It started to become an obsession. He was hardly able to concentrate on the day job, the diagnostic website, or even the furor in the Stark Trek fandom about the upcoming remake. He could only imagine House and Wilson together in increasingly lurid situations.

One week they got a patient who turned out to have cancer; Wilson was duly consulted. The patient was stabilized, and on Friday night Kutner was heading home when he ran into House in the locker room. House handed him a piece of paper and said swiftly,

"Showtime, Saturday, 6 PM. 'Til late, or until I get too freaked out to continue, which might be after ten minutes. One night only. Don't be late." House turned on his heel and left.

Kutner looked at the paper. It was a web address, long, complicated and meaningless.. He sped home and eagerly booted up his PC to look it up, disappointed to find only a blank screen. He waited patiently for Saturday at six, and was speechless when he logged on to find the website now live.

It was a view from a webcam in House's living room; specifically, a view of the couch. House had placed it high up on a bookshelf to one side. House and Wilson were there on his screen, sprawled on the couch, watching a DVD; Kutner could dimly hear the soundtrack, too. They were sitting close to each other, but not too close.

Wilson, of course, was acting perfectly normally. House was resolutely not looking anywhere near the webcam. The only other sign anything was different was that House was really downing bottles of beer; nerves, perhaps? Kutner found himself glued to the screen and glad he didn't have a room mate.

After the DVD ended, there was a good-natured argument about pizza toppings, followed by a phone call for takeout. While they waited, House played the piano. Wilson lay down on the sofa to listen, and remarked in a quiet moment that he wouldn't be able to drive home after the beers.

"So crash here," said House.

"I thought I should go back to the hospital," Wilson said. "Make sure that patient of yours is okay--"

"No need, the team would have checked up on him today. Tell you what," House said thoughtfully. "Call Kutner and make sure they did."

Kutner was panicked by two things in quick succession--firstly House on the piano bursting into a sudden melody of _'I always feel like/ somebody's watching me'_ and then his cell rang. Kutner just had the presence of mind to turn the sound off on his computer before answering.

"Kutner," Wilson's voice rang out clearly. Kutner could see him on the screen, speaking into the phone. "I was thinking of going in to check on your patient, but House thinks you guys did that earlier?"

Kutner saw that House, for the first time, was looking up at the webcam. He had a sardonic expression on his face. Kutner realized that he was being offered an out--he could say to Wilson, _actually it would be good if you took a look_… and end this, here and now. It would be the fair thing to do, to avoid deceiving Dr. Wilson.

Kutner wasn't tempted for a moment. "Yeah, Taub and I checked on him this afternoon, he was fine, no further complications. No need to, uh, interrupt your evening."

"Thanks," said Wilson, and ended the call.

Back on the screen the pizza arrived, and Kutner watched House and Wilson eat. They stuck on another DVD at the same time. When the food was gone they slumped in front of the TV, now sitting much closer together. The beer was apparently having an effect; Wilson started to nod off and eventually ended up snoring gently on House's shoulder. House moved him carefully down, so his head was resting on House's lap.

The DVD ended. House roused from his own stupor to push Wilson out of the way, got up and tramped off to the bathroom. Wilson sat on the sofa, yawning and rubbing his eyes. When House returned, Wilson took his turn to go to the bathroom. House sat with the remote, zapping through channels. Wilson came back, sat down next to House, leaned in, and bit House's earlobe.

_OMG OMG OMG!_ ran through Kutner's head. Physical contact, affection, just what he'd been waiting for--

House turned to Wilson, and they kissed. For a long time. Kutner stared, jaw hanging, totally absorbed in watching their mouths locked together. They kissed and they stroked and they rubbed; arms embracing, hands feeling, fingers probing. And it looked like that hard-on tenting in House's pants was matching Kutner's own.

Eventually Wilson asked "Bedroom?"

House hesitated. Kutner gasped aloud, realizing it was House's turn to be offered an out--he wouldn't be able to see them if they went to the bedroom.

And House said, "No. Here."

Wilson shrugged, and they carried on, there on the couch. Kutner realized that House had deliberately moved down the sofa so the webcam had a view of their faces.

Then Wilson dropped onto the floor, on his knees, and Kutner got a superb view of him unbuttoning the fly on House's jeans. Then a brief flash of House's cock before it vanished into Wilson's mouth, and all Kutner could see was the back of Wilson's head, glossy brown hair bobbing up and down. And House's face, eyes closed, twisted in mute, agonizing ecstasy.

Kutner unzipped his own pants, glad that House couldn't see him (at least, he sure hoped not--though he resolved to check for hidden cameras in his own apartment later), wondering if the knowledge of the invisible voyeur was making House hold back. Within a few minutes House came, shooting into Wilson's mouth. Wilson's head rocked on his shoulders, swallowing, as far as Kutner could tell.

Then Wilson was up on the couch, undoing his own fly. "My turn…"

House reached across and took Wilson's cock between his palms. Wilson groaned and clutched at House's shoulders as House jerked him off with admirable dexterity. At the exact moment of Wilson's climax, Kutner too shut his eyes, gasped, and ended up in a gooey puddle on the floor.

Afterwards, when Wilson had left the room, House walked over, picked up the webcam, dropped it on the floor, and ground it to pieces under the tip of his cane. Kutner watched the picture disappear into flakes of gray, and wondered what House was thinking.

* * *

Monday morning, arriving at the hospital, Kutner was wondering how to act when he met House. But it was Wilson he ran into first, in the elevator.

"Hey," said Wilson as the doors slid shut. "Did you have a good time on Saturday night?"

Kutner gulped. Was this a simple polite conversational question--or did Wilson know? He stared at Wilson and met lucid brown eyes. _Wilson knew! _Fucking hell.

"I was with you every step of the way," Kutner responded eventually, hoping he wasn't wrong.

Wilson smiled, and any last remaining doubt Kutner had vanished. "House says, never again."

"Understood," Kutner said weakly, as the elevator doors opened. Wilson stepped out ahead of him.

END


End file.
